


Wife

by stringsofwords09



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stringsofwords09/pseuds/stringsofwords09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... a happy/sad meeting between Mary and Bash before she is to be married. like an hour before... O_O</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wife

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combo of two prompts...One asking to show that Mary still remembers their lake side kiss, the second asking to have Bash come and talk to Mary right before she gets married... I thought they worked better as one drabble.  
> the story...well, it's Happy-Sad, the only way I can describe it.

\--

She looked down at her dress of ivory white, with subtle hints of a golden lace overlay. It was cut simply and precise, the bodice delicately accentuated her curves, softly flowing into a full satin skirt. 

She hated it. 

Greer was fixing her hair, meticulously weaving golden leaves into Mary’s long waves, all while chatting animatedly with Kenna and Lola. “Thousands of guests! Not all will stay for the dancing, thank goodness. And a twenty course meal. That’s twenty, girls!” The blonde just shook her head in amazement. “So I hope no one has had lunch today. Or breakfast, come to think of it. The food, I hear, will be _divine_.” She had her inside information into the kitchen’s wedding plans from a very reputable source. 

She squeezed Mary’s shoulder, “One bite of everything, Mary. No more, or you’ll burst from the seams.” 

The other girls laughed, and Mary forced a wide smile. She faced a mirror, and thought it could pass as genuine. She hated acting this way in front of her friends. But divulging how truly heartbroken she felt risked sullying their joy. And they were so excited for her! The girls required this time in France, to develop into proper young ladies, and find husbands. There was no point in putting them through her heartbreak. The nuptials were going to take place, regardless of her sentiments. Love can flourish, as long as there was a seed, could it not? Yet deep down, she knew that love could never thrive in one garden, if the seed was hidden somewhere else entirely. 

“Greer, I think that’s enough. She’s starting to look like a shrub.” Lola pried the combs away from her friend. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked, fussing with Mary’s hair, loosening some of Greer’s work. “There, now you don’t look so rigid.” 

“No, no, girls, you’ve done more than enough. I am so grateful for your help, and your company. But I’d like just a few moments, to myself? To gather my thoughts.” She smiled at them, counting on their need to ready themselves. And to her great relief, they each nodded and excused themselves from the room. 

Alone at last! Her heart, splintered as it was, could finally unwind. She slumped her shoulders, so stiff from her feigned poise. Mary scrutinized herself closely in the mirror. Miraculously, her sleepless nights had not formed bags under her eyes. She turned her head from side to side, examining Greer’s handiwork. She practiced a smile. The forced gesture wore out her cheeks. Still, she could easily be mistaken for an enthusiastic young bride-to-be. The weight of her country, every Scottish man and woman, pressed down firmly on the back of her neck. If only there was somewhere to rest her weary head. 

Mary closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the chair. What was he doing now, she couldn’t help but wonder. Buttoning up Francis’s coat? Giving orders to the servants? Or, thinking of her, maybe? 

She traced her fingers over her mouth, remembering. Lips, soft, yet urgently kneading into hers. Searing heat from the hands cradling her head, pulling her closer into an embrace. And green, soulful eyes burning into her own as she tore herself away. Regret, for revealing his need? Or longing, to continue? Both, perhaps. She recognized them both inside herself, as well. Longing to feel it all again, and regret for not conveying it sooner. 

A noise. The door was opening, slowly. Her eyes flew open in alarm. “Is someone there?” she called out sharply. A figure soon materialized in the doorway. It was Bash. And he looked dashing, as always. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing at the hip. “I’m here to pass on a message fr–” 

He paused for a beat, when he straightened, and looked at her face. “Should…a lady weep on her wedding day?” he asked after a moment. 

Her hands flew to her face, touching the dampness on her cheek. Of course. 

“Unless those are tears of joy?” he asked gently. 

She shook her head sadly, and Bash nodded. “I would never guess how sad this Scot was; your handmaiden are just outside, and they look positively thrilled.” 

“They don’t need to be burdened.” 

She watched him as he moved closer, to lean against the vanity table. His knee brushed by her own. The joint hummed, her heart thumped faster. “Friends,” he told her “are meant to share in everything. Love or loss.” 

“They are in such high spirits!” she argued, “my happiness is important to them.” 

He shook his head. “You do yourself a great disservice. True, sharing your love spreads the joy to others, and that is a gift for friends. But sharing your anguish unloads your pain, and that is your friends’ gift to you.” 

Mary looked down at his clothing. There was a wedding to be held, yet he wore his sword belt effortlessly over his shoulders, riding pants and a cotton shirt. “What do you know of sharing grief?” she asked softly. 

“I needed to clear my head,” he deflected, as she stared now at his riding boots. 

“From?” she prompted. 

He shrugged, looking away. “I don’t have friends, good-hearted ones like yours, to lessen my pain.” He crossed his arms defensively. A barrier. 

“Maybe, I can be that person, Bash, for you?” Mary tried. “You came here for a reason.” 

“I told you…Francis… I was sent...” 

She stood now to face him. Could he really lie to her, eye to eye? “Well, alright then. Let’s hear it. What does your brother want me to know in the hour before we are married, that simply could not wait?” she straightened herself up, ready for battle. 

Sebastian met her eyes, and Mary knew she had already won. It was the same look from when she left him at the lake. “Please, Bash, I want you to –” 

“To what? To tell you not to do this? Not to marry my brother, to give up your obligation to your country?” He relaxed his arms now, and smiled sadly at her. “I would _never_ tell you what to do.” He looked down at his palms, his fingers outlining the creases. “Francis tried to rule my heart, and I would never wish that upon anyone.” 

She was tired of this, the pointless tug of war they were playing. _So why are you here now?_

“You kissed me once,” she said instead. “You weren’t thinking about my duty then.”

“You want to know why I’m here.” He was not asking, he already knew. 

Mary nodded. “Go on.” 

“I was riding outside, for hours,” he said, slowly, searching for the words. “I thought, maybe, I would just ride. Until I could forget.” _But I had to see you, one last time._

“Did it work?” 

“I’m here now, aren’t I? So no, it didn’t work.” 

Mary laughed out loud. “No, I suppose it didn’t.” 

“You’re finally smiling, Queen Mary. Maybe we are helping one another.” 

“So what now?” she looked at him, pointedly. He loved that she could be so pushy, even in her misery. 

He tilted his head and sighed. “This is the start of a new kind of friendship, Mary. You are no longer the girl I desire. You are the woman I will care for, always. In whatever shape or form that may be. If you need me, for any matter, large or small. I will do it. You will just have to ask.” 

“Please…” she begged him. She lifted her hand, touching his cheek. “I relive it every day… I have always regretted how I stopped it.” 

Sebastian nodded. He seized her by the shoulder, bringing her mouth to his lips. It was light, and hesitant. She pressed against him, harder, kissing his mouth, his neck, his cheek. His hand moved to her face, pulling her in, just as she remembered it. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes. 

“When I wed Francis, will you be there?” she asked, in a whisper. She clung to his shirt, tightly. “Supporting me…supporting your brother?” 

He tucked her hair behind her ear. A loose gold leaf slid down her head –Greer would not be pleased– but Mary was not concerned. 

“No, not him. Only you, Mary. I will only be with you.” 

\--

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you aren't too sad!  
> I just couldn't write them running away together! it doesn't work for the historical aspect and would not be a realistic scenario. But they'll always love each other :)  
> kids feel free to discuss on tumblr, stringsofwords09 . or ask for some other drabble (if it's reasonable of course.)


End file.
